The Mitchell Sisters: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 3

  “Okay, great. Well, I’ll see you around then,” I say, pulling away to try to save what little face I have left.

  She calls out after me and I almost fall over my own feet. “If you can be at Fetzer this time Monday, I’ll run with you.” Then she turns down the path to her dorm.

  I spin around. “It’s a date, er, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you then.” I roll my eyes at myself. Since when have I ever been flustered around a girl? It never happens. Ever. Until Baylor.

  I’m completely screwed.

  I turn back around to see my friends doubled over laughing up ahead of me. Yeah, I knew they’d find something to rib me for sooner or later.

  “I’m so glad you have a bye weekend so you can finally come to a game with us,” Karen says, hooking her arm around my elbow on our way to the football stadium.

  That’s one more thing that sucks about playing soccer. We have to miss all the football games, and the team is pretty good this year, too. But this weekend is one of those rare bye weekends during the season and I plan on making the most of it. A lot of the guys on my team have pitched in to organize a party tonight at an off-campus house. We even got our coaches to back off Sunday practice by agreeing to fit in a long one this morning. It’s all coming together perfectly. The only thing that could make it better is if I could somehow get Baylor to the party. She doesn’t hang out in the same circles as I do, which is mainly athletes and sorority chicks. Ha—I can’t imagine Baylor in a sorority.

  “What’s so funny?” Karen asks.

  I didn’t realize I laughed out loud. “Nothing,” I say. “Just glad to have the afternoon off to see the game.” Jonesy and I walk with Karen and Marcie to the stadium.

  We get to the concession stand where Jonesy and I stop walking. “Want some nachos or one of those big salty pretzels?” I ask Karen.

  She looks at me like I’ve grown a third arm. “Are you kidding?” she asks. “And ruin my entire week of dieting?” She shakes her head. “No, I’m saving my calories for drinking beer at this party of yours tonight.” She jumps up and down and claps her hands. “Oh, I can’t wait. We’re going to have so much fun!” She pulls Marcie out of line. “We’ll meet you at our seats,” she says.

  Jonesy and I watch them walk away. “You’ve got to nip that in the bud, man,” he says.

  “Nip what in the bud?” I step forward as the line inches closer to the counter.

  “You know she thinks you’re into her now, right?” He nods in the direction of the girls.

  “What? That’s crazy,” I say. “Why would she think that?”

  He gives me a hard stare. “Gavin, you haven’t screwed a girl in months.”

  “And she thinks that—”

  “Yup,” he cuts me off.

  “But . . .” I shake my head and look at him in question.

  He simply nods at me in affirmation.

  “Oh, shit,” I say.

  “I heard her tell Marcie that she thought you were finally coming around and she didn’t think it would be long before you realized what you had right in front of you,” he explains.

  “Double shit,” I say.

  “Dude, you have to set her straight,” he says. “She’s wanted you since what, third grade? Don’t lead her on. Either shit or get off the pot.”

  “Lead her on?” I raise my eyebrows at him. “I’ve never—”

  “I don’t think she sees it that way, Gav,” he interrupts.

  I’m next in line at the counter, so I get out my wallet to remove a few bills. Then I look across the crowd and I see her. Baylor. She’s with some guy, not Asswipe, some guy with a camera around his neck. She’s talking to a group of students while taking notes. Oh, that’s right, she’s into journalism. And the guy is taking pictures. They must be covering the game for the student paper. She puts a pencil behind her ear, which I find completely adorable in a sexy-librarian kind of way.

  She looks up to catch me watching her. I’ve never seen a brighter smile light up a girl’s face, and I notice what I didn’t before. She has a dimple in her right cheek. Life’s ambition number two: see that dimple as often as possible.

  “Sir! Sir, what can I get you?”

  I turn around to see that I’m holding up the line and quickly give the guy my order before turning around again. She’s gone. Dammit.

  I spend the rest of the game perusing the stands to try and find her. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Literally, there are sixty-three thousand people here, so what are the odds I’ll find one tiny girl among them?

  Apparently, not very good.

  On our way out of the stadium after the game, Karen gets a call. She and Marcie have to rush back to the sorority house to avert some kind of fashion catastrophe. Jonesy offers to walk them back since it’s starting to get dark. I agree to head on over to the house and help the guys set up for the party.

  I’m walking toward the parking garage when I see a group of three guys up ahead. They are standing in a circle, a couple of them swaying like they’re drunk. One of them falls off to the side. That’s when I see Baylor standing in the middle of them—looking terrified while clutching her notebook securely against her chest. I run closer only to see one of them put his hands on her.

  She shouts, “Hey! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

  “Jerk?” says the asshole who has his hands on her. “Who are you calling a jerk? I just want to have a little fun, that’s all.” He pushes her hair behind her ear.

  That’s it. I’m killing him.

  Thank God I don’t need my hands much for soccer. Hell, even if I did, I don’t think that would keep me from pushing his two friends aside and punching Jerk in the face. Baylor leaps to the side while the guy falls to the ground, blood running out of his now-disfigured nose. I stand over him, keeping his friends in my peripheral vision in case they are stupid enough to jump me. “If you don’t want more where that came from, I suggest you apologize to the lady and then get the fuck out of here.”

  He looks up at me to see just how much I mean what I said. Then he mutters a groaned apology through his hands that are cupped over his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I motion for his friends to come pick his ass up off the ground and I watch as they walk away, leaving little spatterings of blood on the sidewalk every couple of feet.

  I turn to look at Baylor—pale and shaking. “Are you okay, Baylor?” I step towards her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She shakes her head at me, unable to speak. I can see her bottom lip quiver and I know she’s going to cry. Shit. I hate it when girls cry.

  She inches forward and stutters, “Th-thank you.” Then she collapses into me.

  I hold her up by wrapping her in my arms. Damn, this feels good. She fits perfectly against my body with my chin resting comfortably on the top of her head. I hate that she had to get harassed by some prick in order for me to hold her like this.

  “Shhhh,” I whisper into her hair, as she silently whimpers. I’m trying not to be obvious when I inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” I reassure her.

  A minute later she looks up at me all puffy-eyed with a bit of black crap smeared under one of them. It doesn’t matter, she’s still gorgeous. Her captivating eyes hold me prisoner as I reach my thumb up to wipe a tear that helps get rid of the smudge. I wipe my hand off on the back of my jeans and think that I may never want to wash them now that her tears are on them.

  Pussy.

  I shake my head at myself.

  “I must look a mess,” she says.

  “You look fine, Baylor.” I smile down at her. “Pretty as always, in fact.”

  She gives me half a smile. Not the one that brings out that dimple. “I’m so glad you came along. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she says. “I had interviewed them for the paper before the game and they were nice enough then. So when they called me over, I didn’t think . . .” She shakes her head. “I’m so stupid.”

 
“No, Baylor. You’re not stupid,” I say. “You just need to be more careful. Where is the photographer that was with you before the game?”

  “He had to leave early.”

  “He left you to walk home by yourself?” I ask angrily, now wanting to pummel him as well.

  “He had an emergency,” she says. “It wasn’t his fault. I should have gone straight home like I told him I would.”

  She’s still shaking. I can’t leave her like this. I look at where we are and realize that just around the block there is a great coffee shop.

  “Coffee?” I ask.

  She looks up at me with an adorable wrinkle in her nose that makes my dick jump in my pants.

  “You need to calm down,” I explain. “Why don’t we go around the corner right quick and get a cup of coffee so you can relax.”

  She giggles softly, making my own smile reach my eyes. “Well, I’m not sure coffee will help me relax,” she says. “But okay, maybe something chocolate would be nice.”

  Despite the fact that I’m fairly sure she still has a boyfriend, I lead her around the corner to the place that I will always consider to be the location of our first date.

  chapter five

  Baylor orders a chocolate smoothie and I get my usual coffee. I get sidetracked by a kid from my team, and when I put some bills on the counter, the barista tells me the tab has already been paid. I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or thoroughly impressed. I walk over to where Baylor’s adding some whip cream to her smoothie and say, “That’s the last time you’ll pay for something.”

  She dismisses me and walks over to pick out a table by the front window. When I sit down, she takes a pretty big bite out of my ass so that I almost have to turn around to see if I’ve got any left. “I know who you are, Gavin McBride,” she says, crossing her arms and settling in to lecture me. “And I don’t give a rat’s ass if your parents own half of Texas or if your dad becomes president. If you and I are going to be friends, let’s get one thing straight. I pay my own way. I always have and I always will. If you can’t get that through your head because that unruly mane of hair stands in the way, then you can get up right now and go find yourself another friend.” She sticks a straw in her smoothie and stares me down as she takes a long drink that probably has more fat in it than Karen has consumed all week.

  Thoroughly impressed it is.

  This is something I will have to get used to. Even though Karen’s family is much better off than mine, she still expects me to pay whenever we’re together. Hell, we aren’t even dating and she expects me to pay. At first I thought it was a southern thing, being from Texas. But, I’ve come to learn it’s a Karen thing.

  Watching her suck chocolate through that straw . . . shit, I’ve never wanted to be a straw so bad in my life.

  “Fine,” I acquiesce. “But, I will pay for myself, Baylor. I draw the line at you paying for me.”

  She cocks her head to the side and appraises me. “I can live with that,” she says. There’s that smile again. The one that shows her dimple. And just like that, we’re friends.

  “Wait here a sec,” she says, getting up to go talk to the barista. A minute later she comes back with an ice pack. She carefully picks my hand up off my thigh and puts it on the table. Then she places the ice pack on top of my now-swollen knuckles.

  I smile and thank her. I took care of her and now she’s taking care of me. She smiles back and I swear she looks at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “So, Baylor,” I say, rolling her name around on my tongue. “You have a unique name. I’ve never met anyone else with it. Is your family from Texas?” I ask.

  I know what her answer will be before she says it. She doesn’t even have a hint of an accent like mine. She’s not from anywhere around where I come from. I realize how bummed that makes me.

  She shakes her head. “No. We live in Connecticut, but my dad went to school there. He was a huge fan of Baylor’s football team. Still is.”

  Damn. That’s a long way from Texas. “Ahhh, so you’re a Yankee. Despite that, I really like your name.” I wink. “And it could have been worse. Your dad could’ve gone to Clemson . . . or Pomona.” We laugh.

  “Pomona?” she gags on the name. “Yuck. They’d call me Mona. That just sounds wrong.” She giggles and immediately I’m searching my mind for something funny to say to make her produce that sound again.

  My phone vibrates on the table and I ignore it. Baylor motions to it. “It’s okay, you can check it.”

  “Whoever it is can wait,” I say. “Tell me about journalism. You said you were interviewing people for the school paper? Is that where you work?”

  She wipes some whip cream from her lips, making me envious of the napkin. “No, I applied, but there’s a long list of students who want to work there. They usually never pick up the articles written by lowerclassmen anyway. It’s really more of an exercise in writing than anything else. I wouldn’t expect to get published until at least next year.”

  “I’d love to read your stuff,” I say. She blushes. I smile. We drink.

  “So, you don’t have a job?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Not a paid one.” Her lips turn up and her amazing eyes sparkle. “I volunteer over at the children’s hospital three days a week.”

  My phone vibrates again. Baylor says, “You’d better check it, maybe it’s an emergency.”

  I give in and tap the screen to see that I’ve gotten a few texts from Karen, who’s wondering where I am. I quickly type out a text saying I’ll be late and to go without me. My phone immediately vibrates again so I put it in my back pocket.

  “If I remember correctly, you are majoring in, but completely uninterested in, Political Science?” she asks.

  It’s hard to keep the smile off my face. It was one small conversation months ago when she was sprawled out on the sidewalk. She remembers. Yeah, that’s gotta mean something. “Well, when your dad is a politician it kind of comes with the territory,” I say.

  “Why is that?” she asks, her face a modicum of seriousness.

  I study her expression. “I guess because it’s expected of me.”

  “Oh.” She frowns and I feel as if I’ve let her down somehow. “Do you always do what’s expected of you?”

  “Not always,” I say, trying to assert my independence with this obviously independent girl. “I play soccer. That wasn’t expected of me.”

  “So you love soccer?” she asks.

  “Yes and no,” I answer honestly. I’m not sure she’d let me get away with anything else. “I love the game and it did earn me a scholarship here, but it’s not my passion.”

  “Then why do you play?”

  “Honestly? To get out of all the other crap that’s expected of me.” I shake my head and realize what an ass that makes me.

  “So, you don’t want to go into politics, and you play soccer to avoid having to tell your dad that you hate the life he’s drawn out for you.”

  It wasn’t a question. Who the hell is this girl? I drink my coffee pondering her philosophy. My phone has vibrated a few more times and it’s getting harder to ignore. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I check my phone? Someone won’t stop bugging me.”

  “Please, go right ahead,” she says. “I’m sure your girlfriend is wondering what’s keeping you.”

  I put my phone face down on the table. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Baylor.”

  She raises her eyebrows at me. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Of course I do,” I say. “It’s the truth.”

  “Then who is the blonde I see you with all the time?” she asks. “It sure looked like you guys were cozy walking to the game.” She blushes when she realizes she’s revealed she was watching me. I bask in silent victory.

  “Karen?” I ask, amusingly. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We’ve been friends since we were kids and we do hang out a lot, but she’s definitely not my girlfriend.”

  “Hmmm.” She eyes me skepti
cally. “Does she know that?”

  I laugh out loud. “She’d better.” I look Baylor square in the eyes and reiterate, “Baylor, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, okay.” She looks away shyly. “But you should still see who’s trying to reach you.”

  I turn my phone over to see that Karen has called and texted numerous times, and Dean called me once. “Do you mind if I make a quick call?” I ask her.

  “Go right ahead,” she says, digging out her notebook to busy herself.

  I dial Dean’s number. “Hey, Dean. I got held up.”

  “Gavin, get your ass over here,” he says. “This party is epic. I think half the campus showed up.”

  “About that,” I say. “I got a little sidetracked.” I look at Baylor and see that she’s pretending to go through her notes, but I see the corners of her lips curve up. “If I come at all, it’ll be a lot later. Right now I need to go.”

  “Oh, I get it.” He laughs into the phone. “Been a long dry spell for you, man. Go get laid so you’ll stop bugging the shit out of the rest of us with your ornery ass.” Then he shouts, “Listen up guys, McBride’s gettin’ laid!” I can hear cheers in the background.

  My eyes bug out, but based on Baylor’s demeanor I realize she did not, in fact, hear Dean’s declaration through my phone. “It’s not like that, man. But, hey, do me a favor and tell Karen to quit texting me. I gotta go.” I hang up and put my phone back in my pocket.

  Baylor puts her notebook down. “If you need to be somewhere, don’t let me keep you.”

  “Baylor, there isn’t any place I have to be,” I say. “I want to be here. What about you? Isn’t anyone waiting for you? What’s-his-name maybe, from orientation?” As if his name isn’t painfully obvious to me.

  “Chris,” she says.

  “Yeah, Chris,” I repeat. “Your boyfriend, right?”

  She shrugs her shoulders shyly and nods almost like she’s embarrassed.

  “So, are we talking marriage and babies here, or just passing time with someone until you find ‘the one’?” I ask.